DreamSleep
by samantha-darling
Summary: It is the most gentle of us who are also sometimes the weakest...In progress
1. Chapter 1

**"**Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you." - Ernest Hemingway, _Death in the Afternoon_

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Time, she thought with a barely concealed sneer, was a cruel mistress. It was awful, it was dastardly. It incensed her that everything revolved around the ticking and tocking of the god-forsaken clocks around her apartment. The small alarm clock on her bedside stand told her it was nearly three in the afternoon, but she was sure the one in her kitchen would tell her that it was much closer to quarter after three in the afternoon. Better yet, the cuckoo clock her roommate insisted on picking up in a dodgy little second-hand store on their outing to America, hanging illustriously above their radio in the living room, would be chiming any second now to remind her that it wasn't wound properly and, until it was, it would keep chiming at least an hour and a half past the correct time.

Whatever time it was, it was twenty one hours, thirty four minutes, and 13 seconds after the world had ended.

* * *

Susan Pevensie woke the previous morning with an odd chill in her bones. Wasn't it her luck to be getting sick on her first day back from across the pond? She cursed herself all the way to her steaming cup of coffee , but discovered she couldn't be too mad. After all, it was all just a product of her adventures in America. Probably a souvenir from the dashing gas station attendant they had run into somewhere just outside of New York. Winnie, her roommate, thought it was positively bold to pay for a full tank with a steamy kiss, but Susan had promptly reminded her that the few crowns in their coin purses wouldn't have done what her lips did. She smirked over her white porcelain mug at the memory of the boy's shocked expression when she had hinted at other methods of payment.

At that moment, Winnie marched into the kitchen, clad in the fuzziest white bathrobe. Her hair was swirled up into a towel of a matching color. She pointed meaningfully at a note attached to their refrigerator.

"Have you phoned your parents yet?" Susan took another sip of her coffee while squinting at the note. In lovely script, it said that she was to call her family as soon as she knew her plans for the weekend as they were making a trip up from Finchley and would be in the area. She rolled her eyes.

"No, I haven't. Besides, they'll be on the train by now." Winnie gave an exasperated sigh and plopped herself at their small table, tapping her long nails impatiently on the smooth wood. Her blue eyes narrowed as she took in Susan's disheveled appearance.

The two girls were like polar opposites. It was amazing how well they had gotten along. Susan was dark and slender, the more outgoing of the pair, and while she was also the messiest indoors, she'd never leave the house without looking completely done-up. Winnie, on the other hand, was all milk and honey, and just as sweet. The girl was quiet but capable of keeping up with Susan's antics. She was also perfectly fine with wearing a headscarf outside to the grocer's. It was, in fact, the only snag in their swimmingly good relationship. They had talked a little in boarding school but the friendship didn't begin to progress until Susan had found out from the school gossip that Winnie had been seen wandering the grounds with her handsome eldest brother.

"What about your siblings? Can't you phone St. Finbar's and let Lucy know? They're picking her up aren't they?"

"What are you so worried about? I'll meet them at the station, it'll be a big surprise!" Susan lied. In truth, she was in no hurry to be reunited with her parents, nor her siblings, as Winnie always called them. Her last luncheon with Peter, who was still at university, had ended badly and she had not seen any of her family since. That was at least two or three weeks before their scheduled trip. Finally, her mother had called and left a message with Winnie about their planned visit to see Edmund and Lucy and take them up to see Peter in all his scholarly glory. They wanted Susan to come along, or to at least stop in and see how she was holding up all by herself in the big city. Susan, still fuming from her argument with Peter, vowed to ignore them for as long as possible. If she had anything to say about it, they would not step foot into the building.

"What if you miss them?" Winnie pressed further. She followed Susan into the hallway leading to their bedrooms, cutting off her escape by plastering herself in her doorframe. Susan had to hold herself back from splashing her coffee all over Winnie's pristine white robe.

"I won't! I know what time they arrive, I'll go early. And if there is some sort of twist of fate, you'll be here, right?" She patted Winnie on the shoulder. The blonde shook her head.

"No, I'm working, and then...I have a date." She sniffed and averted her gaze from Susan's, who was grinning devilishly.

"Why, you harlot, you! Wait, let me guess, the big tipper?" Winnie danced away from Susan's doorway and into the bathroom, an amused twinkle in her eye. She worked at the same cafe Susan had, just down the block a bit from their small abode. It was a lovely little place with a loyal following of successful businessmen who like the luncheon deals. Winnie struck up quite a banter every morning with a very cute executive clerk named Edward. One day Winnie had rushed in the back where Susan was grabbing a few omelets and showed her a crisp pile of pound notes. Every day after that, Edward had come in and paid her the same amount. She took Susan out dress shopping for her birthday with just his generosity.

"Possibly. I won't tell you unless you do what you were supposed to do and let your family know you're alive and well!" She slammed the bathroom door in Susan's face. Susan growled low in her throat and retreated to her room, finishing up her coffee and gently shutting the door behind her. It would be another forty minutes or so before Winnie relinquished her hold on the vanity and its numerous toiletries. She sat heavily down on her small bed, still mussed from her night's sleep, and set her mug on her nightstand beside her silver alarm clock. Her eyes fell upon the handsome school picture of Peter her mother had given her when she first moved into the apartment. Helen Pevensie had insisted that she receive each of her brother's and sister's school portraits, to remain close and in touch with them despite the distance. Now Susan wished the exact opposite. She sneered at the picture of her eldest brother and quickly flipped it over on its face.

Susan wouldn't call.

She wouldn't show up to the train station either.

Besides, it wasn't like they didn't know where she lived. For all of her procrastinating, they would probably all show up on her doorstep later in the evening anyway, cold and hungry, expecting dinner and entertainment. Her mother had tried to press upon her the importance of being a good hostess and being a proper cook. All young women her age were proper cooks. The thought made her groan.

"Have you called them yet?" Winnie's voice asked on the other side of her door. Susan threw a shoe in response. The large bang was followed by a small, surprise yelp and then a flurry of curses. Susan smiled and settled back into bed.

* * *

Just yesterday, she knew her family had been walking, talking, and breathing. They were irritating her, yelling at her, asking things of her. And now...Now they were dead.

The word was so final and so hard to swallow. In fact, she thought she might be choking on it. It was suddenly so hard to breathe. Winnie's words piled on top of her, smothering her. Call Lucy. Let her know. Your siblings. Call your siblings. There was no one to call anymore, except far away relatives.

Winnie knocked on her door, so softly Susan almost didn't hear it. The blonde peeked her head through the crack in the door. She opened her mouth to say something, more than likely ask if her presence was alright, but when she met eyes with Susan, she stepped quickly to the bed and caught her in a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry Susan."

"You were right." She replied. "Winnie, you were right. I should have called." It was the statement said aloud that opened the floodgates. She latched onto her friend and sobbed and sobbed until she felt bile begin to rise in her throat. Winnie helped shuffled her to the bathroom where she retched a few times into their salmon pink toilet. Her mistakes kept ringing her ears, like a loud, clanging bell. The tidal wave was so close to drowning her. She wasn't sure she had the will or strength to survive it.

* * *

_Somewhere, in between worlds and states of being, an old woman shakily raised her head. The moth-eaten fabric of her threadbare cloak hung loosely over the top of her nearly bald, white head. She sniffed the air experimentally, claws gripping the frosted length of her wooden stick. It had been so long since she had felt the rolling waves of sorrow. Stuck here she had been cut off from everything that had given her strength. But now..._

_She breathed in deeply the scent of tears. It brought a toothy grin to her wrinkled face. The folds of skin, once so taut and smooth, sagged now about her deflated lips. The loss of her beauty and power had pained her. She lamented them constantly. Now a new pang was filling her belly. Malice, hopelessness, fear...Oh the scent of it was enough to make her stand, her bones creaking, and do a teetering twirl that nearly landed her on her rump._

_Her time had come! Who would have guessed it would be the daughter, and not the sons, whose resolve would crumble so easily?_

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_A/N: _Alright, I don't know if its something about summer or what, but I've sudden got a wild ambition to restart this plot bunny and subdue it. I've been kicking around how I would do it forever, hating my ideas, starting new ones, only to come back to the old ideas, and so on and so forth. So I just started and I'm just going to plow ahead with this as best I know how, so please, let me know how its going and whether or not I've gotten off on the wrong foot. Mostly though, enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

When one sleeps all the time, one begins to think of the strangest things.

Susan had not been dreaming so much as she had been remembering, digging through the oldest of memories to try and hang on to her family, which had already begun to slip away. Their faces were growing dim inside the walls of her mind and it made her blood run cold.

The funerals had been quick but not painless. A few distant cousins showed, in their automobiles and fussy black suits, and she hated them for their generic sympathy cards and floral arrangements. None dared sit near her at the wake, very few ventured to try and make conversation. They talked behind her back, though, freely and often. She had decided to pour herself a small cup of water when her mouth began to go dry and found a prim older woman making low remarks to the funeral attendant. He saw Susan coming and politely excused himself, but the older woman with her wide brimmed black hat merely gave her a stern glance and commented on the hor d'oeuvres. Susan said nothing. It was the last time she ventured away from the caskets.

Winnie joined her at the cemetery. It was slightly relieving to finally have someone to lean on as the priest finished the prayers and concluded the funeral. She stayed as long as she could before the grave diggers apologized and began to lower each casket one by one into the plots. A part of her stomach turned as she watch each one disappear. She had panicked, clutching Winnie by the arm and looking at her tearfully.

"What if I forget them?" She whispered urgently. Winnie looked pained for a minute and then at a loss for words.

"Susan, you won't." But even she did not sound as sure as Susan had hoped.

Now she sat and watched the rain pour down on the London streets, tucked in her greying sheets, and staring hard at the pictures of her family she had set on the windowsill. Each had its own beautiful frame, courtesy her mother, and she snuffled as she remembered her bringing them in her oversized carpet bag.

Helen Pevensie always seemed so harried before and during the war, rightly so, but her stress only intensified when her husband returned with a slight limp and a gruffness in his demeanor that hadn't been there before. She curled her hair and tucked it beneath a pillbox hat, but there were always a few strands that had come loose from their pins. Her eyelashes were never properly done and Susan had found herself one day wanting to tear apart the inky black clumps with a tweezers. Her carpet bag, a rough linen with a hideous floral print, was full to the brim with odds and ends she thought she might need, but there always seemed to be room for a present or two.

She dumped it on Susan's bed when she had first visited the apartment. Coming alone during the weekday when Father was out at his new job, she looked around approvingly but then clucked her tongue when she saw the empty expanses of her stand and dresser.

"Well this won't do. It simply won't. There's nothing here of you my dear!" Susan rolled her eyes.

"What ever do you mean Mother?" Helen did not explain herself in words. She pulled each framed picture out and designed them in comfortable manner across from Susan's bed on her vanity. Lucy and Edmund's current school pictures sat together in somewhat matching frames; Lucy's was a beautiful burnished copper while Edmund's had shone a muted gold. Then she had pulled a large frame with Peter's portrait. He stood straight and stern, with a tightly laced bow tie and suit, holding a few books and a pair of glasses at his side. Helen beamed at her eldest son and then placed a demure snapshot of her and her husband to his left.

"There. Isn't that more like home?" Susan had smiled, agreed, and ushered her mother out to show her the street shops. She was secretly very pleased but she was a young woman now. It was silly to be so attached, especially when one must worry about making a suitable match in the future.

Susan couldn't take her eyes off their pictures now. They had easily become her most treasured possessions, along with a shoebox beneath her bed that held a variety of items that tied her to them. Notes passed between her and Lucy during school that she had found crumpled in the pockets of her purses. Baubles that Edmund had bought her for her birthday when he had no other idea what she might like. Jewelry gifted from her parents.

There was a knock on her door. It was Winnie.

"Susan, there's a man here to see you. He has some boxes from...from your family." Susan swallowed thickly. She lost her voice. "Susan?" Winnie tried a few more times and then Susan heard her whispering quietly to whomever had come calling. A few minutes later the front door closed and her bedroom door opening, despite her never saying she could come in. Winnie sat on the edge of the bed with a package slip.

"What is that?" Susan croaked.

"The moving company that cleaned out your parents' house and your siblings' dorms." She handed Susan the slip, which she had signed. "There's about six or seven boxes out in the dining room. Do you...do you want to go through them?" Winnie never had to ask. Susan bolted out of bed and ran towards the front of the apartment, coming to a halt in the doorframe to the dining room. The boxes were large but already she could smell the familiar scent of their home in Finchley and Peter's cologne. She sank to her knees beside the closest one and ripped it open, unaware of Winnie's wide and glistening eyes watching her as she pulled out one of Peter's ties.

"He wore this one often." She said devoid of emotion. It was red, a rich satiny red that was permanently crinkled from its wear. His eyes twinkled whenever he put it one, like nothing could stop him when he was wearing it. Beneath the tie were his treasured King Arthur books. Susan chided him once for reading them so incessantly. It was such a childish tale. Of course he argued with her. It was a great literary treasure. Since neither would win, they would simply scoff at each other and leave for separate rooms.

"Susan..." She was pulling the box across the floor towards her bedroom. Winnie tried to help but Susan roughly pushed her out of the way.

"I don't need help!" She nearly shouted. She didn't care if the wild look in her eyes was scaring Winnie. The blonde stood still in the hallway as Susan finished pulling Peter's box beside her bed. She went back for each and every one, until all of them were piled side by side so she could get to each and everyone at her leisure. After, she slammed the door and pushed her vanity partially in front of it, just in case Winnie should decide to interrupt her. Tonight she was going nowhere. Tonight she was going to drown herself fully in them.

So it came to be that Susan was still awake near three in the morning, though she couldn't tell how awake. She was wrapped in Edmund's favorite scarf and had put on Lucy's dainty Sunday gloves. They barely fit but she couldn't resist. Her mother's pillbox hat was perched on her head and she had draped Peter's school blazer over her shoulders. She was thought she might look absolutely ridiculous but lack of sleep and too many tears made it impossible for her to be sure. Finally, as the sky outside the window began to grey and the sounds of Winnie waking and walking softly to the bathroom filtered through her barricaded door, her eyes drifted closed and she shivered.

* * *

_It was cold on the battlements of the castle. The breeze toyed with her loose, long hair as she gripped the stone balcony and stared longingly out over the sun-lit sea. The horizon had turned a radiant hue of red with the last vestiges of orange light peering through the onset of evening clouds. She felt at peace at the sound of voices in the room behind her. Lucy and Edmund were playing a card game as Peter played referee. They laughed and teased and called her name. She smiled and turned, ready to be with them. _

_But they were gone and in their stead was a barren and destroyed library instead. The floors were bare and strewn with dead leaves and insects. The shelves were in ill repair and were falling apart, with books lay over everything, torn and burnt. She gasped as a small hunched figure rose from an askance chair in the darkest corner. _

_"Why, my dear, what ever are you doing here?" The voice was that of an old woman but the steps were a bit too fluid for the splintered cane. She stayed ever so slightly in shadow but she could see the glint of thin silver hair peeking from beneath the tattered cloak._

_"What do you mean?" She asked bemusedly. The old woman shuffled a bit more._

_"Are you lost?" She asked sweetly. _

_"No." She replied. "Who are you? What has happened here?" The old woman chuckled low in her throat._

_"My dear, I've lived here for a very long time. I have been waiting for you." She frowned at the woman's words._

_"You still have not answered me." She said more firmly this time. The old woman hesitated._

_"Do you not remember why you are here?" She croaked throatily. Her cane shifted and scratched on the marble floor. The voices of her siblings returned, mere echoes in the room. _

_Susan frowned, becoming aware of herself. She immediately felt silly but when she laid eyes on the old woman the odd chill returned and she fell utterly still._

_"I am alone." She replied thickly. The crone moved from the shadows and smiled such a terrible smile that Susan backed quickly away. She was all white teeth and pale, blind eyes. It frightened her._

_"And that, my dear, will be your first lesson."_

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She shot up, jolting the pillbox hat off her head and disturbing the pile of books next to her knee. There was a sheen of cold sweat on her forehead and the rest of her body. The dream remained vivid in her head but with each beat of her heart it was falling away from her until all she seem to remember was that something had made her empty and afraid.

As Susan snuggled deeper into Peter's blazer, she pleaded with him to come back.


	3. Chapter 3

Later the next day, Susan pulled the vanity from the door and ventured out into the quiet apartment. There was a note on the formica table from Winnie, who had gone to work for the evening. Her shift ended at eight, when the cafe closed, and she imagined she would be home shortly thereafter. In the back of her mind Susan felt oddly guilty. She made some coffee but it didn't taste right in her mouth. She tried a bit of toast but it was bland and made her stomach churn. Then, since she vaguely understood she had to eat or drink something, she filled a large glass with water and waded back into her room, stacked to the brim with Pevensie treasures.

After her unsettling dream (or rather nightmare, though the events still eluded her), she had emptied the boxes one by one and categorized the items. Books were stacked neatly in the corner next to her nightstand. Eventually they would need a bookshelf, but she couldn't imagine trying to find one at the moment. All articles of clothing were hung in her closet or draped over the edge of her headboard. Edmund's scarf and Peter's blazer were given a prominent place right beside her pillow. Jewelry went into the drawers of her vanity. Hats were put into an empty box until she could find a hatrack. Shoes and slippers were thrown into another corner of her room, along with a few stray socks she assumed had come from Edmund's room.

She sat lightly on her bed and looked around at all the clutter. Her room had always been slightly messy, unless her mother was coming over, but now the green carpet was barely visible through the myriad of trinkets and items, the boxes stacked like towers in the midst of it all. Susan decided they were completely out of place and she threw them unceremoniously out into the hallway. Winnie would take care of it later and that is how she sated herself to finally take a sip from her water.

Her eyes drooped lazily as she leaned back into her pillows but she knew she wouldn't let herself sleep. There was a warm ray of sunshine coming through her window and she rolled her bare leg into its path. It must be a beautiful day outside. Her eyes closed. It was a few minutes before she opened them again. She wouldn't sleep. The ray of sun became too hot and she retreated. She needed a bookshelf and a hatrack. How long had it been since she had left the apartment? Susan frowned when she couldn't remember. It was the funeral. That was it. But that was...How long ago?

She sat there as the room became dark utterly confused. What day was it? What month? What year? Her eyes narrowed but nothing came to her. Suddenly, the door opened. She jumped as she recognized the figure, silhouetted by the hallway light.

"Are you going to help me with these boxes?" Winnie quietly asked, still in her uniform. The skirt was shorter than usually, showing her knees, and the tiny little white apron barely fit her notepad and pen. Her hair was pinned back into a fashionable hairnet. She looked different and Susan couldn't pinpoint why.

"Where am I?" She asked, knowing that it wasn't the question she was supposed to ask, but not bothering to stop herself. Winnie frowned and came into the dark room. She sat motherly at the foot of the bed and touched Susan's bare foot. Susan didn't flinch from her hot hands though she was surprised that she had wanted to.

"You're in your apartment. It's Thursday." Susan nodded as if she knew what that meant. "Did you eat?" She had probably seen the half eaten toast on the table.

"I tried. I had water instead. I need a bookshelf and a hatrack." Susan said blearily. Winnie nodded compassionately.

"We can go to the second-hand shop four blocks over tomorrow if you'd like. I think they're having a sale this weekend." She suggested warmly. She stood and stretched a bit before tugging at Susan's leg. "How about those boxes, love?"

"Sure." Susan answered. She didn't feel like it but something about the way Winnie stood waiting for her made her think she didn't have much of a choice. It reminded her of her mother.

* * *

_It was a rare vacation to come back to Finchley for the weekend and Susan was ready to enjoy being away from the dormitories and the unending sea of girls. Her old room still smelled the same and she breathed in deep as she set down her small suitcase. Her bed, small and modest, covered in a red and yellow handmade quilt, sat just next to the small window seat on the opposite side of the room, while Lucy's stood just to her left. She didn't mind having to share but Lucy couldn't make it back with her due to a field trip her class was taking and she smiled at the thought of finally having a space to call her own, even if only for a few days._

_Peter was busily arranging his own things in his and Edmund's room. She could easily hear him through the partially closed door of her bedroom. She too began to settle herself in. The homework she had been given for Monday went directly to the small desk they had moved into the room for just such an occasion. Her clothes remained in her suitcase which found a home at the foot of her bed. After fluffing the pillows, she flopped down on the quilt and snuggled, smiling at the feeling of being here again. She missed it terribly._

_After dinner she came straight back to her room and sat down with her homework. Peter had teased her with the idea of a walk down to the park the next day, but only if they could get their academic obligations out of the way beforehand. Mother and Father looked at each other and agreed. It was supposed to be a fine day, they could all go. Perhaps have a picnic. There was a familiar twinkle in Father's eye that she noticed. He'd caught her looking at him and for a moment, across the dinner table, they simply stared at each other. She smiled and he returned the gesture, except it wasn't his normal wide grin. Hers had faded at the distance he held in his mouth, as if she was the one who had changed and not he. She offered to help her mother with the dishes. Mother refused, saying she would rather have her finish her homework, but Father set his napkin down firmly and said it was still plenty early in the evening. _

_"Susan should help with dishes." He said like it had always been that way. Mother frowned but agreed then and Susan helped clean the table and do the dishes. She then retreated to her room, almost thankfully, to avoid the piercing gaze of Father as he pulled Mother aside as she ascended the stairs._

_The algebra book was sitting prominently on the corner of her desk and she sneered at it, but cracked it open and began her equations. After a couple of minutes, she had completely the first one, with only twenty-three more to go. That was just the first chapter. Susan sighed. Absentmindedly chewing on her pencil, she looked longingly out the window at their back yard. It was unbelievably green and lush. She wanted to go outside and play, but she didn't know what. Just then, her door creaked. Susan jumped in her seat._

_"I'm sorry, I didn't disturb you did I?" It was Mother. She had put on her evening cardigan, a long woolen thing that battled the chill she often felt in evenings. Susan nodded her head quickly. _

_"No, I'm just doing Algebra. It's a bore really." Mother nodded distractedly. She sat down on Lucy's bed as if it were not her own. Susan frowned. "Is everything alright?"_

_"Oh. Yes, everything is quite all right dear."_

_"Did you...want to talk to me about something?" Susan asked warily. Mother looked up. Her face was tight but she smiled, a pained thing that Susan had seen before, when she had put on a brave face at the train station for them._

_"You'll be eighteen soon." Mother stated baldly. Susan nodded. "Graduating in the spring." Mother continued. She looked out the window as Susan had been doing. Her eyes narrowed, the same calculating brown eyes as Edmund. She looked as if she was looking for something. Susan remained silent. "Your father and I have been thinking. The war...The war has ruined things terribly for us. I'm afraid you didn't quite get the normal girlhood I thought you might."_

_"I don't understand." Susan finally said. Mother looked somewhat surprised to hear her voice. _

_"Well, it's just that, you're so quiet really. And you'll be eighteen soon." _

_"What does that have to do with anything?" Susan asked blankly._

_"Your father and I were married by the time we were eighteen." Mother said wistfully. She did not look at Susan. Then, suddenly, she jumped to her feet and paced, ending by standing with her hands on her hips. "We think its time you begin to focus on what you'll be doing after graduation." She fidgeted with her pocket for a minute before pulling out two crisp white envelopes._

_"What are those?" Susan asked, taking them when proffered to her. Mother's demeanor changed from nervous to stern._

_"We've been receiving these in the mail for awhile. Apparently you put them back in the mailbox at school." They were beautifully addressed to Susan Pevensie and she recognized them quickly. They were invitations to parties the more well-to-do girls at school held. Some were for birthdays, some were for holidays, most were just an excuse to socialize with the boys next door. Susan looked up confused._

_"What do these have to do with anything?"_

_"Why don't you go?" _

_"I don't know anyone. I...I don't want to go." Susan replied. She looked at them again in mild disbelief._

_"You should. It's a great way to meet people, to meet...fine young men." Mother bit her lip for a minute. "I already sent replies to these."_

_"You what?" Susan practically yelled. _

_"It's why you came back for the weekend. We're going dress shopping." _

_"But-"_

_"No buts. It's time to grow up Susan." Mother left, leaving the door hanging open, and Susan looked up helplessly across the hall at Peter, who was watching soundlessly from his room._

* * *

_  
_

They flattened the boxes and piled them near the front door. It was a bothersome pile.

"We'll take them out tomorrow when we go shopping, mm?" Winnie said with a half-smile. Susan nodded, picking at the hem of her dressing gown. "If you still want to go that is. I don't want to rush you." She added quickly.

"No, I need what I need. My room...My room is a mess." She laughed slightly even if it wasn't funny. Winnie did too. The sounds were empty.

"I can help you organize if you want." She offered but Susan shook her head.

"Going shopping will be enough." Winnie nodded distractedly. Susan frowned deeper. There was something she wasn't saying but would say soon enough.

"Do you want a drink?" She suddenly asked. Susan shrugged.

"Sure." Winnie took two crystal glasses from the cupboards and then reached beneath the sink where they kept their liquor. She pulled the dark bottle of cheap rum from the far corner. "Highballs are alright, right?"

"Whatever. As long as it makes me numb." At this comment, Winnie froze. Susan watched as she stood still at the countertop and then she shook her head and threw the rum under the sink. "What are you doing?"

"That wasn't the right thing to ask you. A drink is the last thing you need right now." She murmured softly. When she turned to Susan, her big round blue eyes were glistening She swallowed thickly and motioned towards the hall leading to their rooms. "You've been sitting in that room for days. I was afraid I'd never get you to come out. They've been asking about you down at the cafe. Jonathan said to take as long as you need, but I'm not sure how long that's going to be, Susan."

Susan remained silent. She stared into the nothingness above the tabletop.

"It's not healthy."

"What's not?" Susan asked. Winnie rolled her eyes gently. She grasped Susan by her shoulders. Susan found herself again wanting to reel from the contact.

"You can't bury yourself with them." She stated boldly. Susan blinked and shrugged off her hands.

"That's not what I'm doing." She replied stupidly. Suddenly the urge to run back to her room filled her. Back to what remained of her life. Bury herself? Couldn't Winnie see that she was struggling to survive? She found a surging of angry feelings well up in the pit of her stomach until she thought for sure it was boiling. "You don't understand at all!"

"You're wasting away!" Winnie followed hot on her heels as she made for her room.

"It's all I have left!" She shrieked, turning around and pushing Winnie roughly against the wall. The blonde looked at her, terrified for an instant, and then painfully. Susan squeezed her eyes shut against it. This is what happens, she thought blindly, this is what happens when I leave. This is what I have to look forward to without them.

"Leave me alone." She whispered. And then she was gone.


End file.
